Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
The door to the police station flings open, and the boyfriend storms in. His concern melts into anger when he takes in the proximity of Callan and me.
“Checking for injuries,” I tell the not-so-mini Jax. “Nothing to report.”
Zak’s brown eyes burn into me hatefully before he dismisses me completely. Two of their friends pop in behind him. One is another version of Zak—protective athlete type—while the other one is cagey and won’t look my way.
“What happened?” Zak demands, his voice authoritative. “Why are you here…with him?”
Callan transforms before my eyes.
From a fiery, taunting, could-be lover to a stubborn child. He doesn’t like his boyfriend’s concern. As if the air of it is noxious. Callan steps back, curling his lip up in disgust.
“You should keep a closer eye on your boyfriend,” I tell Zak. “He almost got his ass beat by a group of guys.”
Zak snarls out, “What the fuck, Callan?” while Callan growls, “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Hurt shutters across Zak’s face like he’s physically wounded by Callan’s cold words.
Sorry, man, but your lover wants me to twist his nipples some more. Walk away.
As though Callan can read the words inside my mind, his warning glare pierces me. I wink at him and flash him a smirk.
“These guys just came up to me,” Callan grits out, tearing his stare from me to look down at his red skater shoes. “Started talking shit about…”
He shuts down. His shoulders hunch and a full-bodied shiver quivers through him. Zak approaches slowly but halts when Callan flinches.
“I’m still investigating,” I tell Zak. “Perhaps you should leave.”
Zak turns on me, puffing out his solid chest. “I’m calling my brother.”
“I’ve got this handled.” I cross my arms over my chest. “No need.”
“Seems like you’ve got a hard-on for upholding the law,” Zak snaps, dropping his disgusted stare to the way my jeans bulge with my still half-hard dick. “Someone needs to get control of you before you arrest every goddamn person in Brigs Ferry Bay.”
“Pissed that I arrested your daddy?”
His two quiet buddies exchange a nervous look.
I step toward Zak, and I have to give him credit for not budging despite my intimidation tactics. “If I hadn’t shown up, that fucker that’s sitting in the cell as we speak would have most likely beat the shit out of your friend.”
He bristles, and his nostrils flare.
“Let me do my job.”
Zak glowers at me. “Your job doesn’t include fucking my boyfriend!”
I don’t have to say shit because Callan explodes. He shoves Zak away from me. Zak’s neck muscles are tight with tension, and his glare is hot, never leaving me despite Callan ripping him a new asshole.
“He helped me,” Callan snaps. “Drop it. And for fuck’s sake, Zak. I’m not your boyfriend. Best friend. Fuck.”
Now, both the quiet boys are staring at their feet.
“Let’s go home,” Zak snarls. “We can talk about this tomorrow. Without witnesses.”
The annoyance Callan had directed toward me earlier is gone. He shoots me a thankful look. Not for the nipple tweaking but for arresting that jackass. He can thank me later for the nipple abuse. Without witnesses.
“Go home, kids,” I agree, dropping into my chair. “I’m a cop, not your daddy. If you’re looking for a bedtime story, it’s not happening.”
I wink at Callan, though, because I’d read him a bedtime story in a heartbeat if he got on his knees and begged like a good little boy.
Callan
“You’re coming with us,” Zak barks at Cormac, ignoring his protests.
I follow after my three friends, trying like hell not to look over my shoulder at Atlas as we file out of the police station and make our way to Zak’s car. Zak is in a pissy mood while Cameron tries to get him to laugh. Cormac, who normally likes to walk home—wherever home is—seems mildly annoyed at being bossed around by Zak. But, since Zak is rarely a prick, we zip it and fall into line.
Cameron sits up front with Zak while Cormac and I get into the back seat. My nipples still burn from the way Atlas so boldly touched them.
No.
He didn’t just touch them. He hurt them. And I liked it.
I’m thankful for the dark car because my skin feels hot. The last thing I need is everyone seeing each emotion on my face as I relive one of the hottest yet most bizarre moments of my life.
Atlas Larson is an asshole.
Fuck, though, is he hot.
Smug. Arrogant. So damn sure of himself.
A lawless cop.
Rebellious bastard with a gun and a badge and an “I don’t give a shit” attitude.
I’m slightly amused by this. Brigs Ferry Bay is Boringville with a capital B and is home to a crapton of homophobic pricks. Yet two-thirds of the police force are gay.
My thoughts are still on Atlas by the time we reach the house. Zak and Cameron head out to the garage apartment. It’s implied for Cormac to follow, but he goes inside the house with me. Jax and Dante are sprawled out on the sofa watching a movie, wearing four purring cats for blankets.